Five Months
by My heart beats only for you
Summary: It’s been five months since Seth Cohen’s mental breakdown in which he’s been residing in the juvenile wing of Shadow Brooke Psychiatric Hospital.
1. First

**Disclaimer: **Mick, Rachel, Claire, Steve, and Kiley belong to me; the others belong to Josh Schwartz, McG, and Fox.

**Authors Note:** Okay, so I thought of this idea and couldn't help but go with it. Enjoy.

* * *

The night before my discharge, I barely slept at all. Partly because my roommate, Steve, had kept me up again and also because I was nervous about the next morning.

During the day Steve would keep to himself but sometimes, late at night, he'd rant on and on about random issues like why people became vegetarians and if Neil Armstrong really did walk on the moon. He'd talk to me for hours until he fell asleep but now that I think of it, I'm sure he wasn't really talking to me.

That morning it rained. It hadn't in months but today it poured. Rachel made splashes in puddles while Kiley cried because she thought God was.

Like Steve, I also kept to myself. I'd usually only talk if spoken to and since Claire, my old roommate was released a few weeks ago; I was never spoken to since.

I didn't know much about her other then she tried to kill her mom, had chin length brown hair with forest green eyes and that she liked peanut butter. But before she left, she whispered advice in my ear, kissed my cheek, and gave me her number.

Standing on the back porch I realize that it's now noon and my family should be arriving soon.

I didn't feel ready. Five months just wasn't enough.

Letting out a sigh, I walk across the courtyard where Rachel had been playing.

"Hey." I offer and Rachel's sparkling blue eyes beam.

She makes a splash and the water comes up to land on my nose, only sending her into hysterics.

"Not that funny." I say with a playful grin.

"You look nice." She points out and makes another splash.

"That's because I'm going home today, remember?" But I knew she wouldn't because she didn't want to.

"Why?" She inquires, frowning.

"'Cause I'm better now" I begin.

_Was I better?_

"My family needs me."

_Sure, I'm better._

"_I_ need you!" She shouts and tears start running down her pale cheeks.

_God, why does she have to do this?_

"Don't cry." I tell her sympathetically and reach out to rest a hand on her shoulder.

Her head snaps up as soon as my fingertips brush against her arm and with all her might, she sends a powerful punch at me. I try to swerve but her knuckles catch my right eye and I squeal.

"Rachel!" A counselor calls from afar and it takes four of them to pull her off me.

Sobbing, she gives me one last look and then runs back to the home.

"You alright, Seth?" Mick, our ward therapist, asks and helps me to my feet.

I bob my head and he lifts my chin up to examine my eye.

"Ouch, want an icepack, kid?" He offers, grimacing at my already forming black eye.

I shake my head no and blink a few times until my vision clears.

"She didn't mean it" He tells me as he guides me back to the porch.

"Yeah, I know."

Rachel had a problem controlling her anger. She was seventeen with the mind of a seven year old and she weighed nearly 300 pounds.

We draw near the porch and he motions for me to take a seat on the old bench. As I sit he sits down with me, making the wood moan do to our combined weight.

"So, today's the big day, huh?" He reminds with a smile.

"...Right"

"Oh, come on. Don't sound so discouraged." He reassures, turning toward me.

"I'm just nervous."

"You have nothing to be nervous about, Seth"

Rubbing my hands together, I nod my head. But my feelings haven't changed.

Letting out a breath, he brings his hand up to cup his cheek, thoughtfully.

"I know you're ready." He begins calmly,"You've been ready. Don't be afraid to live outside this hospital like the others. Everything will be fine, I promise."

Suddenly, I felt like crying and I guess he sensed that because he throws an arm over my shoulder.

"You know you can always call" He tells me as-a-matter-of-fact.

"Yeah, I know."

We sit in silence for a while until Nurse Judy pops her head outside to inform me that my dad is here.

Mick and I exchange looks then we stand up from the bench. Together, we make our way inside and we head for the front of the building. My breathing picks up as everyone waves goodbye because I know this was it. I was leaving Shadow Brooke for good.

_Am I ready? Am I better? What if it happens again? What if I hurt myself? What if I hurt them?_

Doubts screamed in my head and I come to an abrupt halt in the middle of the long hall.

"I-I c-can't" I stutter just above a whisper.

"Yes, you can, Seth." He firmly reassures.

"No, no, I'm not ready." I say a little louder and I'm shaking now.

Mick holds me by the shoulders and hunches over to look me in the eye.

"Take a deep breath. Everything is okay, alright?"

I do as I'm told and I start to move my legs again.

Patting my back, he steers me toward the foyer where my father awaits and where all my belongings are too.

My father looks tense but he smiles for me anyway.

"Hey, son" He says and I just smile and bend over to gather my things.

"Mr. Cohen, hello" Mick greets, taking a step toward him.

"Mr. Richardson." Dad replies.

"Please, call me Mick." He corrects and extends his hand out.

"Call me Sandy then."

And they shake hands.

Both men are civil to one another but I got the feeling that there was tension.

"Well" Dad says suddenly, "ready to go?" He finishes peering at me.

Though I wanted to say no, I nod my head.

"Okay, then." He states, claps his hands together and grabs the rest of my suitcases.

"Thanks for everything, Mick."

"Sure."

One of the nurses opens the front door for us and we step outside of Shadow Brooke Psychiatric Hospital.

Dad loads everything into the car while I say my final goodbyes.

"Would you tell Rachel that I'm sorry?" I implore to Mick and he nods his head once.

"Everything will be fine."

"Seth..." Dad calls from behind.

"Okay." I tell him, over my shoulder.

Mick gives me a sideways glance then pats me on the back.

"Go on." Mick says simply.

"Bye."

Turning on my heels, I make my way to the car where I open the passenger side door and just before stepping in I take once last look at Mick and Shadow Brooke Psychiatric Hospital.

_Goodbye._

Gulping, I settling myself into the seat where I buckle my seatbelt and entwine my fingers. Dad smiles at me from the driver's seat and then he starts the car. I turn my body around as we start down the road and watch my home get smaller and smaller until it's out of sight.


	2. Second

During the ride home, my fingers stay laced together and my hands rest in my lap. I didn't talk much because he didn't speak to me. The only sounds that were present were the windshield wipers and the popping of gum in dad's mouth.

Reaching over, I turn the radio on where Jewel's You Were Meant For Me blares and for some reason I thought of Rachel then. My hand drifts over my blackened eye and though it hurt I hoped it wouldn't go away.

Did that mean I missed her? Maybe I missed everyone even Steve- midnight one-way chats and all.

Gulping, I quickly change the station and then cross my arms against my chest.

The Cure's Pictures Of You plays and it only makes me feel worse because I didn't _really_ miss her, did I?

I guess I missed them in theory. Mixed feelings were a weird thing.

Since entering Shadow Brooke I've been on Suicide Watch five times, read fifteen books and witnessed twelve different people wig out. I wouldn't miss Kiley's endless sobs and ear-piercing cries at night which were often my own. I wouldn't miss Steve's habit of chewing on his own flesh and I wouldn't miss Rachel's "love taps"

Sighing, I turn the volume down all the way and then sink back into my seat. I could feel dad's watchful eyes on me so I put a smile on my face and lie to him cheerfully,

"I can't wait to see everyone"

"We're almost home." Replied dad with sparkling eyes.

"Great"

_Home... What a fucking joke._

Okay, so I was kind of really bitter. Bitter about them sending me and now bitter about them reclaiming me. I didn't have to go in the first place. Not _there_, anyway. I wasn't crazy.

It's less then fifteen minutes away from "home" when the sun comes out. Rolling down the window, I let my hand feel the cold breeze.

"Are you hungry?" Dad asks me.

"No." But I was I just didn't want to have to stop at some restaurant and have a real conversation with the man.

Yeah, I'd really like to see how that would go: _"So, Seth, how does it feel not being crazy anymore? Was it anything like that Girl, Interrupted movie?"_

I couldn't help but snicker at the thought only making dad look over at me strangely.

"What's so funny?" He inquires.

"Oh, nothing" I tell him simply then turn toward the window again.

Looking down at my hands I notice my fingernails are quite long and as I bring my hand up to my mouth, my hospital bracelet catches my eye.

"Well, I guess you can take that off now, huh?" Dad suggests.

What did that mean "_I guess_"?

"You guess?" I question.

"I mean you can take if off." He rephrases.

"What if I don't want to?"

His jaw muscle kind of throbs and he shrugs his shoulders like he doesn't care,

"That's fine."

But I didn't want it on... acting this way will only make them doubt my recovery.

Lowering my head, I use my teeth to rip off the bracelet and then I throw it out the window. I look over to dad and he looks back at me and he smiles.

I felt somewhat liberated and scared at the same time.

_Was I ready? Was I better?_

"Seth" Dad suddenly calls.

"Huh?"

Smirking, he nods his head to the left and says,

"We're home now."

Hunching over in my seat, I see our lavish home.

"So we are."

I tried to move, I really did but I just couldn't.

_Was I ready? Was I better?_

Fear and doubt had paralyzed me and I knew that feeling all too well.

Closing my eyes tightly, I counted to ten just how Dr. Mick had advised.

1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10.

But the crippling fear had not gone away.

1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10.

I hear dad say something so I force myself to get it together. Slowly reopening my eyes, I unbuckle my seatbelt and open the car door, letting my legs hang out over the side while dad unloads my things.

"Is- Is anyone home?" I ask him after noting the lack of cars in our driveway.

"No, mom's working and Ryan's at school."

"Right" I say just before I stand up from the car.

"He wanted to stay but he missed a couple days last week and he just couldn't afford it."

Quirking a brow, I circle around to the back of the car to snoop for details,

"Was he sick?"

He clears his throat and he lifts the heaviest suitcase onto his back,

"No, he was suspended." He explains with a grunt.

I wanted to ask why but I didn't I just said, "Oh..." and then helped him carry my bags into the house.

As I walk into the foyer, I immediately notice something is different. Dropping the bags onto the floor, I look around. I couldn't quite put my finger on it until I stood before them.

"Are, are those new couches?"

"Uh huh" He murmurs out of breath.

It almost upset me; we've only had those couches for half of my childhood.

"Why do we have new couches?"

Shrugging his shoulders, he ran a hand through his thick hair.

"Your mother wanted a change."

Change and mom do not go together. She hated change.

"Right..." I start, "anything else I should know about?"

Chuckling, he pats me on the back, "I'll let you know."

I throw my backpack over my shoulder and head for the stairs which seemed a few steps short. Turning the knob, I open my bedroom door and flick the light switch on. To my utter surprise the room had not been touched since I left.

_Christ, it's like I died. _

I just stood there for a moment, and then kick a dirty sock across the room.

Smiling, I slowly make my way over to my dresser where I pull out a fresh pair of boxers and a dark green t-shirt.

"Dad, I'm gonna take a shower!" I shout and hear him yell, "Okay" back.

I walk over to the bathroom, where I plug the drain then turn the faucet on toward the faded red "H". After I undress, I cautiously step into the tub then settle myself down into the warm water.

It's so quiet, I couldn't help but reflect.

"_Hello, Seth, my name is Mick_ _Richardson. I'd like to talk to you about why you were sent here."_

_Lifting up my bandaged left wrist, he nods his head._

_"Oh... I see." He starts, quickly jotting down onto a pad of paper, "Can I ask why?"_

_My head drops slightly and he gets the hint._

_"Who found you?" He inquires._

_"Ryan... my, my brother"_

_"Oh, how'd he know?"_

_Looking directly at the thirty-something man, I answer,_

_"He needed the toothpaste."_

_"What do you remember?"_

_At first I recalled nothing almost as if it never happened but in my heart _

_and on my flesh, and where I was, I knew. _

_"Ryan..." I start and though I wanted to stop, I don't, "he made them go away." _

"_Made what go away, Seth?"_

_With tears running down my face, I tell him,_

"_The dreams"_

Let's go back, say, three years ago... when it _all _started...


	3. Third

I was twelve almost thirteen when it began. I'd wake up terrified and out of breath but I'd never remember what I dreamt about, not fully anyway mostly bits and pieces but never enough to truly recall. This went on for weeks and my parents would always dismiss them as nightmares caused by violence on television but even after I was banned from the tube the dreams would still occur and it wasn't TV to blame anymore, it was comic books. Each issue was sold or given away to kids on the block yet I'd still wake up screaming every night. My parents were getting annoyed at that point and the night terrors kept getting worse as I got older. At first I'd wake up sitting up in my bed or standing on top of it then at fourteen I started sleepwalking and ended up in the strangest places. I'd awake in the kitchen or my parent's bedroom. Once I ended up down the street for Christ's sakes! I became afraid of going to bed because of what might happen. My dad even tried locking my bedroom door from the outside but unfortunately resulted in a broken collarbone. It would bother me that I couldn't remember what the hell had made me so scared but when I actually started to recall my nightmares I really wished I hadn't. Even after I'd "wake up" and my eyes are open, I'd still see images from the dreams but I am unable to move or speak. Once the paralysis wore off, I'd search my room up and down for this "evil thing" or it would mean my death and the death of everyone I loved. When I would tell my parents about evil presences in my room and flying orbs that would cut off my air all while my eyes were open, they would look at me as if I was some basket case that needed to be committed. Every time I'd take longer and longer to convince myself that what I was seeing and feeling wasn't real and it would only make it worse if my parent's told me that it was all a dream while I was having an "episode". They didn't know what to do with me anymore, but something strange happened when a boy named Ryan Atwood entered our lives... the night terrors stopped.

Five Months Ago...

It was a Friday night and we just wanted to have a little fun. It was nearly ten when me, Summer, Marissa, and Ryan piled into the Range Rover, heading over to Holly's dad's beach house. Ryan drove while Summer and I fooled around in the backseat.

"Ow, Cohen, you're on my hair." Summer griped.

"Sorry"

The car unfortunately stopped at our destination and we all climbed out. The place was rather full so the four of us formed a human chain. Each couple held hands and the two girls took each others.

Making our way toward the keg, we met up with Luke and before I knew it, I had already consumed three beers.

"Hey, slow down..." Ryan had said with a smirk on his face.

Before I could reply, Luke had started a "chug" chant and I, of course, went along with it. I must have downed eight more cups before Ryan had pulled me back but I wanted to look cool in front of everyone not some pussy who couldn't handle his alcohol.

"Fuck off!" I spat and then shoved him hard.

"Don't be an ass." Said Summer with narrowed eyes.

Now I was pissed and drunk and I just wanted to go home or just away from them.

"Gimme the fucking keys..." I demand with a slur but by the look on Ryan's face it was clear that I wasn't getting them.

"Fffine... I'll walk."

With my head held high I leave and from what I remember I started off good but ended up smacking my head on a very dangerous birdfeeder. Shouting, I yank the feeder off the tree and send it into the ground. It shatters and at the time, I thought it was the funniest thing ever but by the look on everyone's face... more importantly Summer's face, it wasn't funny at all.

"You better pay for that, asshole" Holly points out as I walk away in a huff.

"I should go get him." Ryan tells Marissa before following me down the beach.

I had no idea why I was even mad. I pushed Ryan, just left Summer there after I completely humiliated her and myself.

Holly was right... I was an asshole.

Somehow I find myself up to my knees in freezing cold water, then in what felt like a second it's up to my waist and the current is pulling me in. I try to fight but I didn't even know which direction land was.

"Seth!" I hear Ryan call and he grabs my arm and walks me out.

Shivering, I let myself collapse into the wet sand.

"You okay?" He asks, kneeling down in front of me.

"I'm an asshole."

He sighs and helps me onto my feet.

"I'm an asshole, Ryan." I tell him again.

"It's okay. Let's just go home."

I must have passed out then because that was the last thing I remember from the party.

That night I had a dream. There was a spider under my skin and my mother had ordered me to cut open my leg with a butter knife, not a butcher knife or any other kind of knife that might cut better... I had to cut through my flesh with a butter knife. It was painful and bloody but my mother had explained to me that it was the only way.

Gasping, I "awoke" in our kitchen and noted that all the drawers around me had been yanked out and the utensils within them were surrounding me. I felt the presence and my eyes dart up only to find my parents on the other side of the counter. They both tried to calm me down, tried convince me that everything was okay but I didn't trust them... I didn't even think it was really them. My heart pounded in my chest I thought, "They're going to kill me."

The mom impersonator took a step toward me but I wouldn't give up without a fight.

Bending over, I snatched a knife off the floor and showed it to them, showed them that I would use it if they didn't leave me and my family alone.

"Get away from me!!" I screamed but the monsters continued to reach out for me.

"Everything is okay, honey" The fake Mom soothes but I wasn't taking the bait and as she spoke softly to me, "dad" grabbed for my legs from the side.

Twirling, I lash out and cut him. His wounds bleed gold and his head spins. I try to scream but nothing comes out.

_God, help me. I can't breathe! I can't breathe!_

With knife still in hand, I dart out of the kitchen and head for the back door to get Ryan but I find that there's no door... just an endless wall. Using my hands and the knife, I try cutting out an opening but every time I make any progress, it mends back together. Sobbing, I start running down the hall and escape into the bathroom, where I locked the door. Spiders started to appear within the room and then the floor became black with them, the walls; the whole bathroom filled with spiders. I told myself it wasn't real and rushed over to the sink where I splashed water onto my face and to my surprise they were gone.

_Was I really awake?_

The house was quiet so I took an incredible risk and opened the door. Tiptoeing out of the bathroom, I found Ryan, my mother and father, staring at me like they had seen a ghost.

"Seth, honey, can you hear me?" Mom asked softly.

They all looked so horrified, afraid of me. I took a step forward and they took a step back. Ryan had actually placed himself in front of mom... protecting her from me... her own son.

"Put the knife down, son." Dad ordered.

Gasping slightly, I hadn't even realized I still had it or even had it to begin with. I dropped it quickly then rapped my arms around myself.

"Everything's okay." Mom eased.

Everything's okay? Everything's okay?! Everything is _not_ okay! I hurt my father. My mother was shaking. Ryan had looked like he didn't know who I was anymore.

After that episode an intense depression set in.

How can you live a life when you can't tell the difference between asleep and awake anymore?

That morning I took a razor to my wrist.


	4. Four

I had been in the tub for so long that the piping hot water had gone cold. Emerging up from the tub, I reached out for the lone towel on the rack but only managed to brush my fingertips against the fabric. I stretched my body out further and before I knew it my feet slipped back and my body plunged forward. My left shoulder connects with the tile as my ankle clipped the edge of the porcelain bathtub. At first I didn't hurt at all but within seconds I became fully aware of my injuries. Whimpering, I tried to roll over onto my back but realized that I couldn't move at all. The thought of being paralyzed crosses my mind and my heart begins to race.

I tried to cry for help but couldn't seem to catch enough breath to do so.

"Seth?"

I hear dad call from the other side of the bathroom door.

"D-d-d"

He knocks lightly and calls again, "Seth? Are you alright?"

The knob rattles momentarily then stops and I hear him walk away.

_No, come back. _

Letting out a groan, I make another attempt to get up or even move. With all my might I rock my body back and land hard against the tile with a noticeable yelp.

The sound of a stampede is heard from the other side of the door and then there's a loud collision and the door swings open.

I would have been embarrassed for my lack of clothes but the relief of seeing my father was crushed by the humiliation.

Gawking down at me, he takes the towel from off the rack and tosses it across my lap.

"What happened?" He asks, stooping down next to me.

I was still in a state of shock so much that I was unable to speak which changed fast when he touched my ankle,

"Ah, fuck!"

His eyes widen at my language but then soften at the justification.

"Can you move it?" He asks, still at my side.

"I don't want to try…" I admit, wiping away a forming tear.

I hated crying, especially in front of my family.

I shiver and he instantly takes the shirt right off his back and wraps it around my upper body.

"Dad…" I began about to say something you'd hear on Family Matters but I didn't want to sound so over-sentimental,

"…Your eyebrows got nothing on your chest."

He chuckles softly as he helps me out of the bathroom and into my bedroom, where he places me onto my bed.

"Other then the obvious…" he starts, "are you okay?"

I wiggle my way up the mattress while rubbing my shoulder,

"Yeah"

He retrieves my clothes from the bathroom and tosses them to me.

Slowly, I sit up and pull the t-shirt over my head.

He stands there not really sure if he should leave because I still might need him.

"Do you-" He starts, sort of gesturing his aid.

"No, I'm fine. I got it."

He nods his head and goes for the door and when he reaches the knob, I thank him. He smiles then leaves, halfway closing the door on his way out.

I wait a few seconds to drop my towel, just in case he forgot something and I'm yet again exposed. I swing my legs over the side of my bed and slowly maneuver my injured foot through the leg of the boxer and then the other, I stand and then quickly pull the boxers up the rest of the way. Shuffling over to my closet, I grab a pair a loose-fitted jeans and repeat the same process.

My shoulder throbs but I keep my mind on the beat so not to even think about my ankle and how much it fucking hurt.

I find myself standing in front of my mirror, my eyes almost magnetically drawn to the scar on my wrist.

God, I hated it. So cliché. Poor Seth Cohen can't deal with his dreams.

Limping back to my closet, I rummage through a box and recover an old wristband, not the hip bracelet kind all the little Avril's are wearing but a real one- Red and filthy. I pull it through my hand and onto my wrist, where I adjust it so it's concealing my scar. I hobble back to the mirror and take another look and I'm satisfied.

"Are you dressed?" Dad interrupts at the frame of the doorway, hand covering eyes.

"Yeah…"

I think about that day and wished it hadn't happened or maybe… maybe I wish I would have succeeded.


End file.
